


Not Your Ordinary Pair

by gryffindorJ, torino10154



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Glove Kink, HP Wankfest 2008, Humor, Masturbation, Multi, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-15
Updated: 2008-06-15
Packaged: 2019-08-23 20:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16626068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindorJ/pseuds/gryffindorJ, https://archiveofourown.org/users/torino10154/pseuds/torino10154
Summary: Thank you to the lovely blpaintchart for the beta. Written for hp_wankfest 2008.





	Not Your Ordinary Pair

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the lovely blpaintchart for the beta. Written for hp_wankfest 2008.

"Clear, detailed, and neat as always, Percy. Nice work."

"Thank you, Minister," Percy replied in return, his clipped tone hiding his increasing arousal. He never outgrew the need to have his work praised and this particular Minister was pleased with him as much, or perhaps even more than his previous supervisors had been. There was also the added benefit that this Minister called him by his given name and not by his surname as every other authority figure had whether at Hogwarts or the Ministry. That the Minister could see he was more than just another Weasley made him feel special.

Unfortunately, it was also very difficult to stay focused in the presence of Minister Shacklebolt. He had a broad chest and shoulders, strong arms, and long legs that he often crossed casually as he leaned back in his chair listening to Percy's reports. Percy could easily imagine the smooth planes of well-toned muscle under the minister’s robes. He also had that deep, velvety voice which resonated through Percy’s bones as if they were a tuning fork. Percy’s prick began to throb under his robes as the Minister clasped him on the shoulder telling him once again what a good job he'd done as he led Percy out of his office.

Percy walked hurriedly back to his office, his focus on the task at hand: his needy prick. He closed the office door, sat in his rigid, straight-backed chair and then slowly pulled his wand from his inner pocket. He pointed his wand at the bottom left drawer muttering several incantations. He then withdrew a long, gold skeleton key from another pocket and proceeded to turn it in the lock with an exact series of turns and counter turns.

He left nothing to chance; picking locks would occur to the Muggle-born wizards and spells would occur to those more accustomed to the wizarding world. There was always the threat of wizards knowing both; growing up with Fred and George had taught him that much. He had to be sure he was the only one who could get in to this, his private treasure.

He slid open the heavy drawer revealing dozens of boxes all wonderfully hidden in wizard space. They were cataloged in his mind and ordered in neat rows of perfect, flat glove boxes. He moved a box containing the white silk gloves that had belonged to Lucius Malfoy, and one containing rich brown Seeker’s gloves, that still smelled of sweat and broom polish, revealing a few boxes of Professors’ gloves. He remembered the purple velvet gloves of Dumbledore’s; he had once considered getting rid of them but had been glad later that he still had them. 

He fingered the box containing dragon hide gloves that had once been Snape’s. The feel of the soft worn dragon hide mixed with the adrenalin rush he had felt when he nicked them made him almost come from the thought alone. It was foolish to take something from Snape as the man noticed everything. Luckily some unfortunate Hufflepuff had taken the blame for the missing gloves. 

Tempted though he was to reacquaint himself with that smooth pair, it was a different pair he had in mind for today. Moving the box containing a pair of fussy pink gloves, _which he really ought to get rid of_ , he thought with a slight shudder, he reached for the box he knew he would want from the moment he'd entered the Minister’s office. 

Leaving his office, Percy walked to the lifts. He was headed to his favorite part of the ministry to be alone with his prize, which he held safely in his inner-breast pocket. 

The lift rattled lower and lower, more and more people clearing out at each floor. When he finally reached level nine, he got out of the lift and headed toward the circular room which in turn led to his favorite section of the Department of Mysteries. He said the name of the room he desired and the correct door opened, the green light flooding out, beckoning him.

Quietly closing the door behind him, Percy locked the door first without magic then sealed it with his wand. He turned and visually verified the room was empty before sealing the door on the other side. The low hanging lamps made the room glow warmly. He could already feel his cock throbbing against his y-fronts, begging to be freed from the confines of his pants. The glimmer of the pearly-white brains floating in the deep–green liquid in the center of the room didn't help his situation at all, for there was nothing sexier than intelligence combined with power and the Minister had both in spades.

Reaching into his robes' inner pocket, he pulled out his prized possession-Kingsley's black leather gloves. Percy rubbed them against his cheek, inhaling the rich scent of leather, sweat, and Tossington's All Purpose Leather Oil. He always kept his gloves properly conditioned. 

Out of every pair Percy owned-and each pair was special in some way-Kingsley's were his favorite. He slid his hands inside just for a moment and imagined Kingsley was parting his robe, pushing the pressed, starched fabric down off his shoulders before slowly unbuttoning his crisp white shirt. Percy paused to drape his robes and shirt over one of the chairs that sat behind one of the desks in the room, as he didn't want either to get rumpled. 

He continued running the gloves over his bare torso, stopping to tweak a nipple or dip his hand towards his trousers. But not yet, no, he didn't want to rush. He ran his hands over his throat, through his hair, brushed over his lips. He licked the tip of one finger, the leather smooth against his tongue, and then ran it around one of his nipples, the cool air of the room pebbling his skin. He licked the glove again and repeated the action on his other nipple, while his other hand roamed over his bulging trousers, rubbing the cloth-covered erection gently. 

He imagined Kingsley's breath in ear, despite the whispered tone his voice still resonating, "Such a good boy, Percy. You want to spread your legs for me don't you? Shall I fuck you over my desk?" Percy's hand sped up as his rubbed himself. Finally, he stopped, panting harshly and undid his belt and dropped his trousers, stepping out of them and folding the pair before adding it to the pile. He shivered in anticipation, as once he reached this stage of his ritual he often lost himself, forgetting just which Weasley he was.

He set the pair of gloves on an empty chair, waved his wand and said the incantation, _animatius guantius_. While he still had his wand in hand, he touched his hip and performed a lubrication spell, the cool, slippery substance coating his entrance and loosening the tight muscles. 

The gloves began to roam over his body of their own accord. One glove cupped his balls while the other began to stroke his prick, firmly but oh… so… slowly, up and down it moved, twisting on the upstroke and squeezing on the down stroke. Percy braced his hands on the enticing tank, the brains floating gently, calming his racing heart, and spread his legs in invitation for more. The glove rolling his balls moved back, past his perineum to his slick hole and began probing, the thick smooth fingertip just entering. Percy gasped as the leather finger breached his opening. 

As that glove pushed gently in and out, loosening his hole, the other hand settled on his shoulder, pushing him down to his knees. This was different, not his usual fantasy, but he saw no harm in following the gloves directives as they had never failed him before. 

The brains floating in their tanks were the only voyeurs to his sordid solitary sex life. They watched as his knees hit the cold stone floor, the glove on his shoulder sliding down his body and pulling one hand behind his back. The other glove held him fast. He began to pant; only in this room did he allow his thoughts to become wild, untamed-showing a hidden sign of something more, something daring and desperate.

One glove held him fast while the other now worked his entrance in earnest now, two leather fingers sliding in and out of the tight space. He cried out when his prostate was nudged and could imagine Kingsley's deep chuckle, enjoying his lover's pleasure. Spreading his legs wider to allow the glove better access, he yelped again when the third finger entered him. His legs began to quiver, his lower legs beginning to numb from being on his knees. 

His prick was aching, leaking steadily, running down into the fiery curls at the base. He wanted to touch himself; the lack of friction was driving him mad. He tried to pull his hands from behind his back but they were held tight. He thrust his hips forward and then pushed back onto the gloved fingers, as if the air could provide a surface to thrust against. He tried to imagine Kingsley's large, strong hands on his cock. He chanted his name over and over in his head, _Minister… Minister… Kingsley!_ fucking himself on the glove. 

"Please, please, please," he began to beg out loud, and the glove restraining his hands let go instantly, then crawled up his sweaty back and nested at the nape of his neck. Percy reached around and took himself in hand but felt the glove pushing him, pushing him down, so he'd be on his hands and knees. He complied, still working his throbbing prick. The glove kept pushing him, forcing his upper body lower until his cheek was flush with the floor. What a picture he made: face pressed to the stone, arse in the air, working himself roughly. Then the glove that was fucking him hit his prostate with every thrust. 

Percy knew he couldn't last much longer and began babbling aloud, "Please, Minister, fuck me, fuck me, oh god, just like that, I'm going to come, fuck, fuck-MINISTER!" and white hot come exploded out of his cock and all over the cold stone floor. He pillowed his hands under his head, resting for a moment. Upon opening his eyes, he saw his obedient companions paired again, lying on the floor at his head. 

Cleaning himself and the floor thoroughly before dressing, Percy mentally prepared to return to work. He unwarded the doors, locking them behind him, and went back to the circular room then headed to the lift. His gloves safely in his breast pocket, Percy thought about the pile of work to which he would gladly return. After cleaning the gloves thoroughly of course. Nothing like a satisfying wank to stoke the fires of hard work. 

Percy opened his drawer to return the Minister’s clean and freshened gloves to their box. Moving some of the other boxes aside to get to his stack of Ministry gloves, he spotted an old, familiar box. He smiled to himself as he opened it and pulled out the bright yellow gloves. His very first pair of wanking gloves! The sunny colour reminded him of their original owner’s cheerful smile. He liked how they smelled of lemon and rubber. He liked how they made him remember that there was one place where he would always be respected and loved. It was a good idea, he decided, to put them in his bag for the weekend, to take and use them in the place from which they came. 

Home sweet home.


End file.
